Garland 
Double  Miracle 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


VAGABOND  PLAYS— No.  1 
* 

THE  DOUBLE  .MIRACLE 

A  Melodrama  in  One  Act 

-By 

\ 

Robert  Garland 


The  Norman  Remington  Company 
Baltimore 


TO 

RICHARD  D.  STEUART. 
'ANCH'  10  SONO  PITTORE!' 


"The  Double  Miracle"  was  produced  publicly  in  Amer 
ica  for  the  first  time  in  the  Vagabond  Theatre,  Baltimore, 
by  the  Vagabond  Players  on  the  night  of  Thursday,  Feb 
ruary  1,  1917,  with  the  following  cast: 

Mariannina Edmonia  Nolley 

Pancrazio _ William  E.  Coale 

Salvatore _._ - Raymond  W.  Sovey 

Old  Peasant Jacob  Frank 

Young  Peasant Woodruff  Smith 

This  play  was  first  printed  in  The  Forum  Magazine. 
It  has  been  translated  into  the  Sicilian  dialect  for  the  use 
of  Grasso  and  his  Sicilian  Players. 

Copyright,  1915,  by  Robert  Garland. 

For  performing  rights,  address  "The  Vagabond  Play 
ers,"  Baltimore,  Md. 


THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE 

Robert  Garland 
CHARACTERS 

MARIANNINA  A  young  peasant  girl 

SALVATORE  A  donkey  boy 

PANCRAZIO  One  of  the  carabinieri 

THE  OLD  PEASANT 
THE  YOUNG  PEASANT 

The  period  is  the  present. 
The  place  is  Sicily. 

The  rising  curtain  reveals  the  resting  place  before  the 
mountain  shrine  of  the  Madonna  della  Rocca.  This  little 
square,  "piazzetta"  in  the  language  of  the  country,  is  but 
the  widening  of  the  steeply  winding  donkey  path  that  leads 
from  Taormina,  huddled  on  the  cliffs  more  than  a  thousand 
feet  below,  to  Castelmola,  perched  perilously  above.  The 
path  rises  to  the  right  by  a  series  of  rough  stone  steps, 
curving  sharply  out  of  view,  and  sinks  gradually  to  the 
left. 

There  are  huge  deformed-looking  cacti  in  the  corner 
of  the  rocks  which  form  the  larger  part  of  the  back 
ground,  but  their  crude  aggressiveness  is  somewhat  re 
lieved  by  the  yellow  genestra  which  everywhere  raises  its 
head  between  the  cacti  and  the  rocks.  And  even  here, 
high  above  the  Ionian  Sea,  an  occasional  almond  tree  is  in 
bloom,  projecting  from  the  cliff  above  the  lonely  shrine. 
A  strange,  faint,  all  but  ghostly  glimmer — the  reflection 
of  the  night-glow  on  Etna's  snow — dimly  yet  completely 
lights  the  scene.  The  night  i,s  windless,  and  the  stars  are 
very  near.  From  the  valley  below  the  music  of  a  band 
drifts  fitfully — for  a  moment  it  may  be  heard  distinctly, 
then  the  music  all  but  fades  away,  to  return  as  a  wistful 
little  breeze  stirs  the  petals  of  the  almond  trees. 

There  is  a  "festa"  in  Taormina,  the  rockets  of  which 
now  and  again  jllumine  the  scene.  It  is  as  if  the  nearer 
stars  had  fallen  from  the  sky. 


1105305 


2  THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE 

Upon  the  altar  two  candles  burn  with  steady  flame;  be 
tween  them  is  a  metal  crucifix.  Above  the  ledge  upon 
which  stands  the  crucifix  is  a  statue  of  Madonna,  behind 
a  screen  of  glass.  For  a  long  moment  there  is  an  empty 
stage.  Two  peasants,  one  quite  old,  with  quaint  stocking- 
cap  and  twisted  staff;  the  other  younger,  dressed  in  gayer 
colors,  descend  from  the  right,  on  their  way  to  the  "festa" 
in  Taormina.  They  pause  for  a  moment  before  the  shrine, 
crossing  themselves,  each  murmuring  a  faint  and  rather 
hurried  petition  to  the  Virgin.  A  brilliant  light  is  thrown 
upon  the  shrine,  suddenly.  The  peasants  fall  upon  their 
knees. 

THE  OLD  PEASANT:     A  miracle!     ...     A  miracle! 

THE  YOUNG  PEASANT:     A  miracle!     .     .     .     And  here 
before  our  very  eyes. 

(The  light  upon  the  shrine  quivers  for  a  moment  as 
if  to  go  away,  and  yet  it  does  not  go.) 

THE  OLD  PEASANT:     Mother  of  God,  have  mercy  upon 
us! 

THE  YOUNG  PEASANT:     Mother  of  God,  have  mercy 
upon  us! 

THE  OLD  PEASANT:     O  blessed,  blessed  night! 

THE  YOUNG  PEASANT:     This  is  a  night  to  put  the 
other  nights  to  shame. 

THE  OLD  PEASANT  (as  if  speaking  to  himself):     Ma 
donna  mia!     .     .     .     Madonna  mia! 
(The  light  slowly  disappears.) 

It  is  finished. 
THE  YOUNG  PEASANT  (also  as  if  speaking  to  himself) : 

Per  Dio! 
THE   OLD   PEASANT    (looking  about  cautiously):     You 

saw  the  light  upon  the  Virginia  face? 
THE  YOUNG  PEASANT:     Dost  think  that  I  am  blind? 
THE  OLD  PEASANT:     It  was  the  glance  of  God     ... 
THE   YOUNG   PEASANT:     And   in  its  light   I   saw  the 

Virgin  smile. 

THE  OLb  PEASANT:     I,  too,  saw  her  smile. 
THE  YOUNG  PEASANT:     Her  smile  was  sweet  and  very 

kind. 
THE  OLD  PEASANT:     She  murmured  blessings  with  her 

sacred  lips. 


THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE  3 

THE  YOUNG  PEASANT:     I  saw  her  raise  her  hand,  as 

if  to  show  the  blessing  was  for  me     .     .     .     And  O,  the 

glory  of  her  eyes! 
THE  OLD  PEASANT:     Her  blessing  was  for  both  of  us, 

as  anyone  could  see. 
THE  YOUNG  PEASANT    (crossing  himself):     Madonna 

mia! 

(They  rise  to  their  feet,  hesitatingly.) 

THE  OLD  PEASANT:     What  means  this  unexpected  mir 
acle  ?     ...     I  do  not  understand. 
THE  YOUNG  PEASANT:     When  one  is  old  one  never 

understands. 
THE   OLD   PEASANT:    What  holy   undertaking   are  we 

chosen  fcr? 
THE  YOUNG  PEASANT:   We  must  ask  the  priest    .    .    . 

He  alone  would  know. 
THE    OLD    PEASANT:      Yes     ...     Yes     ...     The 

priest  would  know. 
THE   YOUNG   PEASANT:    A   mirable  is   a  very  sacred 

thing     .     .     .     if  it  realy  was  a  miracle  ? 
THE  OLD  PEASANT:    Do  you  doubt  what  happened  here 

before  your  eyes? 
THE  YOUNG  PEASANT  (gaining  courage):   Are  not  the 

days  of  miracles  gone  by? 
THE  OLD  PEASANT   (again  crossing  himself) :     This  is 

an  age  of  unbelief     .     .     .     It  is  not  strange  to  see  the 

glance  of  God  upon  the  hills. 
THE   YOUNG   PEASANT:     Who   are   we   that   miracles 

should  be  performed  for  us? 

THE  OLD  PEASANT:     Saint  Peter  was  a  fisherman. 
THE  YOUNG  PEASANT:    Saint  Peter  was  a  worthy  man, 

far  worthier  than  you  and  I. 
THE  OLD  PEASANT:     It  was  a  miracle. 
THE  YOUNG  PEASANT:     It  may  have  been     ...     I 

do    not    know     .     .     .     But    there    are    many    natural 

things  that  cannot  be  explained     .     .     . 
THE    OLD    PEASANT:      That   light   was   not   a  natural 

thing     ...     It  was  a  miracle     .     .     .     The  holy  father 

can  explain. 

THE   YOUNG   PEASANT:     You're   old,   my   friend,   and 
carry  a  priest  upon  your  back. 


4  THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE 

THE  OLD  PEASANT:    A  priest  is  better  than  a  pack  of 

modern  lies. 

THE  YOUNG  PEASANT:     Very  well     .     .    .     Come  to 
the  town;  there's  wine  and  dance  and  music  there. 
(The  young  peasant  approaches  the  wall,  and  leans 

far  over  it) 

Behold     .     .     .     the  tower  of  every  church  is  hung  with 
lamps,  and  in  the  squares  the  color-torches  are  ablaze. 
THE  OLD  PEASANT:     Be  careful  how  you  lean  across 
that  wall     .     .     .    You'll  slip,  and  fall  a  thousand  feet 
upon  the  rocks  below    .    .    .    Once,  years  ago,  a  man — 
THE  YOUNG  PEASANT:  I've  got  my  wits  about  me    .    .    . 
Come  on    ...     I  do  not  think  that  miracles  are  for 
such  as  you  and  me     .     .     .     God  does  not  even  know 
that  we're  alive,  nor  does  he  seem  to  care. 
THE  OLD  PEASANT:     Be  quiet! 
THE  YOUNG  PEASANT:     What  I  say  is  true. 
THE  OLD  PEASANT:     What  you  say  is  very  true,  but 
'twere  not  wise  to  let  the  Virgin  overhear. 

(Another  rocket  bursts,  there  is  a  flash  of  light, 

and  then  the  night  draws  in  again) 

THE  YOUNG  PEASANT  (moving  away) :     Come    .     .     . 
Come! 

(Exit  the  young  peasant.) 
THE  OLD  PEASANT  (loudly):    I  come. 

(He  turns  toward  the  altar  and  crosses  himself  again.) 
It  was  a  miracle. 

(As  the  old  peasant  is  leaving,  Marianna  enters.  She 
is  a  pretty  Sicilian  girl  of  nineteen  or  twenty.  Her 
eyes  are  large  and  dark  and  warm,  and  her  lips  are 
very  red.  Over  a  skirt  of  some  reddish  material, 
with  bands  of  black  near  the  hem,  is  an  apron  of 
vivid  green.  Her  blouse  is  blue,  while  upon  her 
head  is  a  folded  kerchief  of  the  orange  tone  the 
natives  love.  Despite  the  general  air  of  chromatic 
chaos,  the  girl's  costume  produces  a  pleasing  primi 
tive  effect.  She  carries  a  small  bouquet  of  yellow 
flowers. 

(The  old  peasant  looks  at  her  closely.) 
THE  OLD  PEASANT:     Buona  sera,  Mariannina. 
MARIANNINA:     Buona  sera. 


THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE  5 

THE  OLD  PEASANT:     What  are  you  doing  here  when 

there's  a  festa  in  the  town? 

MARIANNINA  (seriously):     I  have  business  here. 
THE  OLD  PEASANT:     Business?     Here? 
MARIANNINA  (lightly)     Perhaps  I  hold  a  festa  of  my 

own. 

THE  OLD  PEASANT  (with  kindly  interest) :  It  were  well 
to  remember  this,  my  dear:  For  you  there  should  be 
no  festa  that  Salvatore  does  not  share  .  .  .  You  are 
to  wed  him  on  Saint  George's  day  ...  Do  not  for 
get. 
MARIANNINA:  Never  fear,  I  shall  not  forget. 

(Turning  away.) 

Dear  God     ...     I  wish  I  could! 
THE  OLD  PEASANT  (as  if  stating  an  established  fact) : 

You  do  not  love  him  any  more. 
MARIANNINA.    Who  told  you  that  ? 
THE  OLD  PEASANT:     You  yourself     .     .     .     Just  now 

I  overheard  you  say 

MARIANNINA:     The  old  hear  many  things  that  are  not 

true. 

THE  OLD  PEASANT:     You  love  Pancrazio. 
MARIANNINA:     Be  quiet!     .     .     .     You're  old,  and  like 
the  old.  romantic.     ...     I  marry  Salvatore  upon  Saint 
George's  day     .     .     .     Remember  that;  tell  all  the  wom 
en  in  the  town. 

THE  OLD  PEASANT  (reflectively):  Young  people  now 
adays  are  very  strange  .  .  .  Buona  sera,  Marian- 
nina. 

(Mariannina  does  not  seem  to  hear.) 
(Exit  the  old  peasant.) 

(Mariannina  places  the  flowers  upon  the  dimly  lighted 
shrine,  then  kneels  before  it.  Her  hands  are  folded 
in  front  of  her,  her  head  is  raised  so 'that  her  eyes 
may  rest  upon  the  Virgin's  face.) 

MARIANNINA:     O  mother  of  God,  mother  of  all  of  us, 
help  me  in  my  time  of  need!     .     .     .     You  have  suffered 
mightily,  you  have  also  loved     .     .     .     You  suffered  and 
you  loved  so  all  the  world  might  gain,  and  when  one 
suffers  for  mankind  it  makes  the  pain  an  easier  thing, 
(For  a  moment  she  pauses,  as  if  to  gain  courage  to 
go   on,  then  casts  her  pleading  attitude  aside  and 
addresses  the  Virgin  as  if  she  were  a  friend.) 


6  THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE 

But,  madre  mia,  her  am  I,  a  lonely,  poor  Sicilian  maid, 
unnoted  by  the  world,  suffering  for  a  mistake  I  did  not 
make,  and  it  is  more,  far  more,  than  I  can  bear  .  .  . 
Day  after  day  I've  gone  into  the  church  to  ask  for  aid, 
but  all  my  prayers  have  been  to  no  avail  .  .  .  Night 
after  night  I've  knelt  beside  my  bed  and  cried  aloud  for 
help,  but  help  has  been  withheld  .  .  .  And  now  I 
come  to  you,  you  who  have  loved.  You  cannot  fail  to 
understand.  Once  you  were  young  and  filled  with  love, 
with  earthly  love  that  could  not  be  denied  .  .  .  I  oft 
have  dreamed  of  how,  when  work  was  done,  you  wan 
dered  down  the  long  white  road  to  meet  a  humble  car 
penter  returning  from  his  toil;  of  how  he  kissed  you 
time  and  time  again;  of  how  you  entered  Nazareth,  his 
hand  in  yours  .  .  .  Madonna  mia,  try  to  under 
stand,  for  as  Saint  Joseph  was  to  you,  so  my  Pancrazio 
is  to  me  .  .  .  Madonna  mia,  I  love  him  so. 
(She  sobs  silently.) 

(Pancrazio  enters  from  the  right.  He  is  a  handsome 
Sicilian  of  the  dark  Grecian  type  found  so  often 
today  along  the  east  coast  of  the  island,  especially 
about  Taormina.  He  is  dressed  in  the  picturesque 
costume  of  the  carabinieri;  loose  trousers,  tight 
jacket  and  peaked  cap.  His  rifle  is  hung  about  his 
shoulder  by  a  strap.  A  cigarette  is  between  his 
lips,  a  crimson  carnation  above  his  ear.  He  crosses 
the  stage,  and,  placing  his  arm  about  Mariannina, 
raises  her  face  to  his  and  kisses  her  on  the  lips. 
She  rises  and  embraces  him.) 

MARIANNINO:    Pancrazio! 
PANCRAZIO:     Mariannina  mia! 
MARIANNINA:     You're  ahead  of  time  to-night. 
PANCRAZIO:     I   could   not  wait    ...     I   hoped   that 

you'd  be  here. 

MARIANNINA:    I  came  to  pray. 
PANCRAZIO:     I  came  to  love. 

MARIANNINA:     O  my  dear     ...     my  very  dear! 
PANCRAZIO:    How  I  have  ached  to  hold  you  in  my  arms! 
MARIANNINA:     How  I  have  longed  to  feel  your  arms 

about  he,  your  strong  brown  arms! 
PANCRAZIO:    My  arms  are  strong,  and  all  their  strength 

is  yours. 


THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE  7 

MARIANNINA:  They  seem  to  protect  me  from  all  the 
world,  to  encase  me  in  their  loving  surety. 

PANCRAZIO:     You  are  divine  to-night. 

MARIANNINA:  I  never  felt  more  human.  Your  body 
calls  aloud  to  mine,  makes  me  forget  I  ever  had  a  souL 

PANCRAZIO:     Kiss  me     ...     my  dear. 

MARIANNINA:  When  I  kiss  you  the  entire  world  goes 
mad,  and  God  himself  withdraws  beyond  the  sky. 

• 

(They  kiss.) 

PANCRAZIO:     I   could  hold   you   here   within   my   arms 

until  the  dawn  creeps  silently  across  the  sea  and  turns 

its  grey  to  warmest  blue. 
MARIANNINA:     I  could  kiss  you  all  the  night,  and  still 

be  kissing  you  when  Our  Mountain's*  cheek  blushes  at 

the  coming  day. 
PANCRAZIO:     Kiss  me  again. 
MARIANNINA:     My  love     .     .     . 

(They  kiss.) 

PANCRAZIO:    The  perfume  of  your  hair  is  sweeter  than 

the  orange  blooms. 

MARIANNINI:    Heaven  is  here  within  your  arms. 
PANCRAZIO:     Your  mouth  is  soft  and  warm  and  made 

for  love. 
MARIANNINA:    Your  breath  is  burning  on  my  face;  your 

heart  keeps  time  with  mine. 

PANCRAZIO :    The  greatest  thing  a  man  can  know  is  love. 
MARIANNINA:    The  only  thing  a  woman  feels  is  love 

like  yours  and  mine     .     .     .     All  else  must  disappear 

like  water  spilled  upon  the  ground,  or  else  it  is  not  love. 
PANCRAZIO:    Love  is  a  valued  coin,  but  there  are  many 

counterfeits. 
MARIANNINA:    Like  any  coin,  real  love  rings  true.  False 

love  can  only  fool  the  stupid,  and  those  who  do  not  care. 
PANCRAZIO:     Kiss  me  again. 

(They  kiss.) 

Our  love  is  real,  as  real  as  anything  can  be. 
MARIANNINA:     Thank  God  for  that. 


*  The  average  Sicilian  peasant  has  never  heard  of  Etna  by  that 
name.  In  the  native  parlance  it  is  always  referred  to  as  "Our  Moun 
tain." 


THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE 

PANCRAZIO:     Now  I  must  go;  my  duty  lies  upon  the 
mountainside. 

(He  turns  upon  her  suddenly.) 
Has  Salvatore  troubled  you  again? 

MARIANNINA:     What  matters  that    .    .     .    to-night? 
PANCRAZIO:    Has  he?    That  is  what  I  want  to  know. 
MARIANNINA:     Not  to-day    .     .    but  yesterday. 
PANCRAZIO:    How  dare  he? 
MARIANNINA:     He  is  more  than  ever  mad  for  me  now 

that  he  knows,  or  thinks  he  knows,  that  I  love  you. 
PANCRAZIO:    Salvatore  is  no  fool. 

MARIANNINA:    Remember,  dear,  that  he  and  I  are  prom 
ised  each  to  each.    Our  parents  willed  it  so,  and  here  in 

Sicily  their  will  is  law. 
PANCRAZIO:     I  know    ...     I  know. 
MARIANNINA:     And,  0  Pancrazio,  I  love  you  so! 
PANCRAZIO:     I  cannot  bear  to  have  you  wed,  but  what 

is  there  to  do? 

MARIANNINA:     There  is  nothing  we  can  do  but  wait 
.     .     .     and  pray. 
PANCRAZIO:     That  is  a  woman's  plan.     If  it  were  not 

for  this  uniform  and  all  it  represents  I'd  have  killed  him 

long  ago. 
MARIANNINA    (with    an   unavoidable   touch   of   pride) : 

Salvatore  is  strong,  and  very  brave. 
PANCRAZIO:      A    well-aimed    stiletto    can    pierce    the 

bravest  man;  but  for  a  soldier  such  deeds  can  never  be. 

I  know  not  what  to  do. 
MARIANNINA:     Ask  the  Virgin  for  her  help.     I  was 

asking  when  you  came  and  drove  me  mad  with  love. 
PANCRAZIO:     The  Virgin  has  no  time  for  us    ... 

But  prayers  can  do  no  harm. 
MARIANNINA:    Our  happiness  means  everything  to  me. 

I'll  pray  again  when  you  are  gone.    I'll  bring  Madonna 

flowers  every  day.    I'll 

PANCRAZIO  (impatiently):     That  can  do  no  good.    The 

gods  are  dead,  or  else  they  do  not  hear.     (He  walks  to 

the  wall,  leans  over,  listening.)     Some  one  is  coming  up 

the  path,  I  can  see  his  swinging  lantern  far  balow.     It 

were  best  for  you  to  go. 

MARIANNINA  (in  a  whisper) :    Who  can  it  be ? 
PANCRAZIO:     Momento. 

(He  leans  far  over,  the  wall.) 


THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE  9 

MARIANNINA:    Be  careful,  dear.    I  would  not  have  you 

dashed  upon  the  rocks  below. 

PANCRAZIO  (returning):     It  looks  like  Salvatore. 
MARIANNINA:     Salvatore!     0  my  God! 
PANCRAZIO:    Leave  him  to  me. 
MARIANNINA:     Do  not  .let  him  harm  you. 
PANCRAZIO:    Harm  me? 
MARIANNINA:     What  can  we  do?     There's  no  way  to 

escape. 

PANCRAZIO:  That's  true.  You  cannot  enter  Castelmola 
at  this  hour  of  night,  the  guard  would  halt  you  at  the 
gate. 

MARIANNINA:  And  even  if  he  let  me  pass  he'd  spread 
the  news  that  I  was  wandering  on  the  hills  where  you 
kept  watch. 

PANCRAZIO:  Don't  try  to  hide.  Just  slip  into  the 
shadows  there  beside  the  shrine  and  see  God  move 
his  marionettes  about  the  stage. 

MARIANNINA  (smiling):     I  hope  God  knows  the  play. 
PANCRAZIO:    The  play  is  his,  my  dear.    The  trouble  is, 

we  will  not  learn  our  parts. 
MARIANNINA:     Be  careful,  caro  mio. 
PANCRAZIO:    Never  fear  ,love  will  find  a  way.     (Hope 
fully)     It  may  not  be  Salvatore  after  all. 
MARIANNINA:    I  pray  it  is  not  he. 

PANCRAZIO:     What  matters  it?     This  thing  must  end 
some  time,  as  all  things  must.     Human  endurance  has 
an  end,  and  mine  is  at  the  breaking  point. 
MARIANNINA    (thoughtfully):     Yes,  it  must  end  some 
time.     I  fear  for  you. 

(A  rocket  bursts  and  lights  the  scene  for  a  moment  as 

he  kisses  her.) 

PANCRAZIO:     Trust  to  me,  my  dear.     Remember  love 
and  trust  are  one. 

(She  steps  into  the  shadows  of  the  shrine.  Pancrazio 
seats  himself  upon  the  wall  that  lines  the  path 
leading  up  to  Castelmola.  He  unstraps  his  rifle 
from  about  his  shoulder,  examines  it  carefully,  then 
lays  it  beside  him  on  the  ledge,  after  which  he 
lights  a  cigarette.  For  a  moment  he  smokes  in 
silence,  listening  to  the  music  of  the  distant  band, 
which  dies  away  as  the  sound  of  approaching  foot- 


10  THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE 

steps  is  heard.    Pancrazio  looks  up  suddenly,  grasp 
ing  his  rifle  as  he  speaks.    A  rocket  bursts,  and  for 
a  fleeting  second  lights  the  stage.) 
Fermatevi! 
SALVOTORE:    Si. 
PANCRAZIO:    Who  goes  there? 
SALVATORE:    Tis  I. 
PANCRAZIO:     And  who  are  you? 

(Enter  Salvatore.  He  is  dressed  in  the  nondescript 
costume  of  the  youthful  Sicilian  peasant,  and  a  scar 
let  sash  is  twisted  about  his  waist.  '  He  is  handsome 
in  an  entirely  Italian  way,  with  hardly  a  suggestion 
of  the  Greek  about  him.  He  carries  a  candle-lan 
tern  in  his  hand.) 
SALVATORE:  'Tis  I,  Salvatore. 

PANCRAZIO:    Which  Salvatore?    Here  in  Sicily  the  Sal- 
vatores  are  as  thick  as  fleas,  and  as  troublesome.  Where 
you  stand  the  shadows  lie  upon  your  face. 
SALVATORE  (drawing  nearer):     Tis  I,  Salvatore  Mar- 
tinetti,  the  donkey-boy. 

(Salvatore  holds  the  lantern  before  his  face.) 
(Pancrazio  lays  down  his  rifle.) 

PANCRAZIO:  Why  do  you  fail  to  linger  in  the  town 
where  love  and  laughter  are  ?  Do  you  not  feel  in  festive 
mood? 

SALVATORE:    No,  per  Dio! 

PANCRAZIO:    As  I  passed  through  the  village  streets  the 
maidens  wandered  arm  in  arm,  all  dressed  in  holiday 
attire. 
SALVATORE  (shortly):     What's  that  to  me?     I  know  a 

maid  who  was  not  there. 
PANCRAZIO:     I  wished  that  I  might  stay. 
SALVATORE:    A  festa  is  a  hollow  thing  unless  there  also 

be  a  festa  in  the  heart. 

PANCRAZIO:    And  is  there  not  a  festa  in  your  heart? 
SALVATORE:     I  do  not  feel  in  festive  mood  to-night.    I 
stopped  before  the  altars  in  the  street  and  asked  the 
Virgin's  blessing.     Then  I  came  away. 
PANCRAZIO:    It's  lonely  here  upon  the  mountain.   What 

do  you  here? 
SALVATORE:  I  search  for  Mariannina. 


THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE  n 

PANCRAZIO  (with  slight  uneasiness):     For  Mariannina? 
SALVATORE:     You  heard  me,  did  you  not? 
PANCRAZIO:     I  heard  you. 
SALVATORE    (turning   upon   him):      You   do   not   know 

where  she  may  be? 
PANCRAZIO:    Is  she  not  in  the  town? 
SALVATORE:     No     ...     she  is  not  in  the  town.     You 

do  not  know  where  she  may  be  ? 
PANCRAZIO:     What  should  1  know  of  Mariannina? 
SALVATORE:     That's  what  I  want  to  know.     What  do 

you  know  of  Mariannina? 
PANCRAZIO:     I  know  nothing  of  her. 
SALVATORE:     You  know  that  she's  to  marry  me,  and 

that's  enough  for  you  to  know. 
PANCRAZIO:     Why  all  this  fuss? 
SALVATORE:    Why  all  this  talk  and  talk  and  talk ?   Let's 

get  to  facts.     I  know  that  she  was  here  with  you,  or 

else  she  will  be  soon.    Whatever  else  I  seem  to  be,  don't 

take  me  for  a  fool.    I  can  see  what  all  the  village  sees. 
PANCRAZIO:    And  what  does  all  the  village  see? 
SALVATORE:     That  Mariannina  is  in  love  with  you,  and 

you  are  mad  for  her.     (Coming  closer)     Remember  this: 

Mariannina  belongs  to   me,   and   always   will.     There's 

nothing  in  God's  world  can  part  us  now.     She's  mine, 

you  hear,  she's  mine! 
PANCRAZIO:     There's  one  thing  that  can  part  you  now, 

or  any  other  time. 
SALVATORE:     And  what  is  that? 
PANCRAZIO:     I'll  whisper  in  your  ear. 

(He  draws  very  near,  a  knife  gleaming  in  his  hand.) 
SALVATORE:     Keep   away!      (His  knife  also  is  behind 

him.)     Speak  out.     (Looking  carelessly  about  him)     You 

say  there's  no  one  near  to  overhear.    What  is  this  thing 

you  say  can  come  between  us  now. 
PANCRAZIO:     A   little   thing  called  Death.     I  hear   it 

stalking  down  the  mountainside. 
SALVATORE:     It  does  not  come  for  me. 
PANCRAZIO:     I  think  it  does. 

(He  makes  a  violent  lunge  at  Salvatore,  and  at  the 
same  moment  a  rocket  bursts  and  lights  the  scene. 
Mariannina  screams,  and  rushes  Jfrom  her  hiding 
place.  The  two  men  separate  at  once,  one  on  either 
side  of  her,  leaving  her  in  the  cent}*?  of  the  stage.) 


12  THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE  V 


SALVATORE  (to  Mariannina):     So  I've  caught  you  twa 

at  last! 

MARIANNINA  (to  Salvatore):  Yes,  thank  God,  you've 
caught  us  two  at  last,  and  I  am  glad.  I'm  tired  of  all 
this  futile  make-believe,  the  vain  pretense;  at  best  it 
only  put  this  hour  off  a  little  way,  this  hour  that  had 
to  come.  No  longer  could  I  burlesque  love. 
SALVATORE  (who  has  become  quite  calm):  So!  You 

do  not  love  me  any  more  ? 

MARIANNINA:  I  do  not  love  you  any  more.  I've  tried; 
dear  God,  how  I  have  tried!  Time  after  time  I've  told 
myself  that  it  is  you  I  love,  that  we  are  promised  for 
Saint  George's  day;  but  when  I  thought  of  love,  Pan- 
crazio  came  to  mind.  Night  after  night  I've  prayed  my 
self  to  sleep,  your  name  upon  my  lips,  and  then  I 
dreamed  Pancrazio  came  and  sat  beside  me  on  the  bed 
and  kissed  me  tenderly. 
SALVATORE  (very  calmly):  You  do  not  love  me  any 

more. 

MARIANNINA:  When  the  old  wives  stopped  me  in  the 
streets  and  talked  about  my  wedding  day  I  tried  to 
think  of  you,  but,  try  as  I  might,  it  was  Pancrazio  who 
stood  beside  me  in  the  church;  I  even  saw  the  candle 
light  upon  his  hair,  felt  the  priest  place  my  hand  in  his. 
And  when  to-day  a  women  came  to  me  and  spoke  of 
little  children,  of  the  joys  and  cares  they  bring,  I  felt 
them  tugging  at  my  skirts  and  looking  up  at  me  witl- 
Pancrazio's  eyes.  And  then  I  knew  that  this  must  em' 
that  you  and  I  could  never  wed. 

SALVATORE  (with  increasing  calmness):  You  are  quite 
right,  we  could  never,  never  wed.  (He  pauses  for  a 
second).  But  did  you  ever  stop  to  think  how  I  must 
feel,  I  who  love  you?  .  .  .  Ever  since  a  boy  I've 
called  you  mine;  ever  since  a  lad  I've  dreamed  and 
worked  for  you.  Do  you  think  I  like  to  loaf  about  the 
streets  and  guide  the  forestieri  here  and  there,  urge 
them  to  sights  they  do  not  want  to  see,  take  them  to 
ruins  they  do  not  for  a  moment  understand  ?  Do  you 
think  I  like  to  sit  all  day  about  the  square,  offering  my 
very  soul  for  sale  to  anyone  who  has  the  price  to  pay? 
Do  you  think  I  like  to  follow  travelers  about  the  towr 
begging  them  to  buy  my  more  than  silly  wares  while 
my  neighbors  and  friends  look  on  and  jeer  at  me?  (He 


THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE  13 

raises  his  voice  just  a  little)  Do  you  think  it  does  not 
hurt  me  to  display  the  wretched  poverty  of  our  Sicily 
as  if  it  were  a  setting  on  some  stage  and  not  the  setting 
for  our  lives  ?  Why  do  you  think  I  did  these  things  if 
not  for  you,  so  I  might  offer  you  a  home  bought  with 
the  money  that  they  bring?  ...  It  pays  to  be  a 
donkey-boy!  It  pays  to  sell  the  strangers  things  they 
do  not  want!  It  pays  to  lift  your  cap  and  flatter  them, 
although  you  hate  and  envy  them  with  all  your  soul. 
All  these  things  pay,  my  dear  .  .  .  and  I  did  them 
all  for  you. 

MARIANNINA  (almost  in  tears):     I  did  not  understand. 

SALVATORE:     That  is  a  habit  that  you  women  have. 

MARIANNINA:     If  I  had  known— 

(She  approaches  him,  but  Salvatore  motions  her  away) 

SALVATORE:  One  moment,  please,  and  then  the  thing 
is  done.  You  should  have  come  to  me  and  told  me  that 
your  love  was  dead.  Why  could  you  not  explain  that 
this  man  here  had  won  your  heart  from  me?  Love,  I 
know,  is  not  a  thing  that  can  be  forced  and  made  to 
grow  in  alien  ground.  I  would  have  understood.  But 
this  you  cculd  not  do.  You  and  your  silly  lover  stand 
ing  there  could  not  be  honest  if  you  tried.  You  met  in 
darkened  corners,  talked  of  love.  You  kissed  upon  the 
hills,  thinking  the  stars  alone  would  know  .  .  .  Like 
all  who  try  to  live  a  lie,  you  thought  you  were  much 
cleverer  than  the  rest.  And  I  sat  back  and  trusted  y  • 
(He  is  growing  more  and  more  angry)  The  boys  in  the 
streets  told  of  you  and  him;  I  kicked  them  for  their 
pains.  The  women  spinning  before  their  doors  whis 
pered  of  you  and  him  as  I  passed  by,  and  yet  I  would 
not  hear.  And  now  when  there's  a  festa  in  the  town 
you  make  me  walk  the  streets  alone,  and  meet  your 
lover  here  before  the  Virgin's  shrine  .  .  .  You  say 
that  you  can  never  marry  me,  and  what  you  say  is  true. 
But  by  the  ever-living  God,  you  shall  not  marry  him. 
You've  taken  all  that  counts  from  out  my  life  and  left 
me  all  alone.  You've  robbed  me  of  my  happiness.  You've 
killed  my  self-respect.  You've  made  of  me  a  fool  for 
everyone  to  see.  And  now,  by  God,  you've  got  to  pay! 

MARIANNINA  (horrified):  My  God!  My  God!  What 
can  I  do?  There's  nothing  that  can  help  the  matter 
now.  There's  nothing  I  can  do. 


14  THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE 

SALVATORE:     Oh,  yes,  there  is,  for  you  can  die.     Your 

blood  can  blot  the  writing  from  the  page. 
PANCRAZIO:    You've  talked  and  talked  enough,  but  that 
is  all  you  do. 

(Mariannina  is  sobbing.) 

SALVATORE    (turning  toward  Pancrazio):     Never  fear, 
my  friend.    My  words  will  change  to  actions  all  too  soon. 
PANCRAZIO:     God  knows,  it's  time. 
SALVATORE:     I've   news  for  you.     You,  too,  have  got 

to  die. 

PANCRAZIO:    Your  jest  is  carried  far  enough. 
SALVATORE:     To  prove  that  I  agree  with  you,  I'm  go 
ing  to  kill  you  first. 
PANCRAZIO:     That's  news,  indeed. 

(He  makes  a  dash  after  his  rifle,  which  is  on  the 

stone  wall.  Salvatore  rushes  after  him.) 
SALVATORE:     Oh,  no,  you  don't  touch  that! 
PANCRAZIO:     By  God,  the  fool  is  mad! 
SALVATORE:    There'll  be  no  trickery  in  this  fight. 

(Pancrazio  gets  his  rifle  in  his  grasp,  but  Salvatore 
wrests  it  from  him  and  flings  it  in  the  shrubbery, 
in  the  shadow  of  the  shrine.) 
This  is  a  fair  Sicilian  fight,  a  fight  with  knives. 

(Mariannina  is  sobbing  wildly  before  the  altar,  call 
ing  "Madonna  mia,  Madonna  mia!"  time  and  time 
again.  Meantime  Pancrazio  and  Salvatore  close 
and  are  locked  in  one  another's  arms,  their  knives 
gleaming  in  their  hands.  There  is  the  sound  of 
sharply  indrawn  breath,  an  occasional  "Ah,"  a  mut 
tered  oath  or  curse  when  a  vantage  point  is  lost  or 
gained.  One  overcomes  the  other,  and,  after  a  mo 
mentary  struggle  on  the  ground,  in  which  Salva 
tore  gains  slowly,  there  is  a  frightful  shriek  and 
Pancrazio  lies  still  upon  his  side,  close  to  the  shrub 
bery  where  Salvatore  has  thrown  his  rifle.  Salva 
tore  rises  and  turns  toward  Mariannina,  wiping  his 
blood-stained  knife  upon  his  sleeve.  He  grasps  her 
roughly  by  the  shoulder  and  turns  her  completely 
round,  facing  him.  He  replaces  his  knife  in  his  sash.) 
SALVATORE:  Now  comes  your  turn. 

(She  does  not  reply,  but  merely  looks  at  him  with 
wide  open  eyes.) 


THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE  15 

My  God,  you're  beautiful  to-night! 

(He  holds  her  off  at  arm's  length,  taking  in  her 
every  line.) 

No  wonder  that  the  man  that's  dead  desired  and  took 

his  fill  of  you.     Your  bodp,  tainted  as  it  is  by  him,  is  a 

thing  to  make  a  man  forget  all  else.     When  I  behold 

your  lips  and  feel  the  hotness  of  your  breath  upon  my 

face,  I  almost  understand  how  for  the  sake  of  you   a 

man  could  well  betray  his  friend  and  soil  the  woman 

that  he  is  to  wed. 

MARIANNINA:     O!     .     .     .     Madonna  mia! 
SALVATORE   (roughly):  How  often  have  you  been  with 

him? 

MARIANNINA:     Never     ...     I   swear. 
SALVATORE    (with  increasing  roughness) :     How  of 

have  you  been  with  him? 
MARIANNINA   (fiercely):     I  swear  by  God  and  all  the 

saints  that  I  am  free  from  sin. 
SALVATORE:     You  lie! 
MARIANNINA:     Whatever  else  I  may  have  done,  I've 

kept  myself  for  you. 
SALVATORE:     You  lie! 
MARIANNINA:     The  saints  bear  witness,  what  I  say  is 

true. 

SALVATORE :    If  I  but  knew 

MARIANNINA:     I  could  not  lie  at  such  a  time. 

SALVATORE:    If  you  could  prove  what  you  say  is  so 

MARIANNINA:     If  I  could  prove  that  what  I  say  is  so, 

what  would  you  do? 
SALVATORE:     I'd— but  what  matters  it?     You  cannot 

prove  a  lie. 

MARIANNINA:      I'll    swear   it   here   before    the    shrine 
.     .     .     I  speak  the  truth. 
SALVATORE :     I  know  not  what  to  think. 
MARIANNINA:      I'll    swear   before    God's    mother   here. 

What  more  is  there  to  do? 
SALVATORE:     How  can  I  believe  you  now,  after  what 

you've  done  ? 

MARIANNINA:     I  have  not  lied  to  you. 
SALVATORE:     You've  lived  a  lie. 

(Salvatore  approaches  the  shrine  and  picks  up  the 
metal  crucifix  that  stands  upon  the  ledge  below  the 
glass-encased  statue  of  the  Virgin.) 


16  THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE 

Will  you  swear  by  this? 

MARIANNINA  (eagerly):     Yes     ...     for  what  I  say 
is  true. 

(Salvatore  holds  the  crucifix  towards  her.   She,  too, 

places  her  hands  upon  it.    His  hands  touch  hers.) 
SALVATORE  (with  tremendous  earnestness) :    With  your 

hands  upon  God's  Son,  you  say  you  have  not  sinned? 
MARIANNINA:    With  my  hands  upon  God's  Son,  I  say  I 

have  not  sinned. 
SALVATORE:     Your  finger-tips  touch  mine,  and  all  my 

common  sense  takes  flight. 
MARIANNINA:     Salvatore     .     .     . 
SALVATORE:     Why   did  you  play  with  love? 
MARIANNINA:     I  have  not  sinned. 
SALVATORE:     I  wish  to  God  I  could  believe! 

(His  hands  drop  to  his  side,  the  crucifix  remains  in 

hers.) 

MARIANNINA  (turning  to  the  shrine):  Madonna  mia, 
let  there  be  a  sign.  You  who  know  everything,  know 
I've  kept  myself  for  him  I  was  to  wed.  Whatever  else 
that  I  may  be,  I  am  not  what  he  thinks.  You  know  I 
have  not  sinned.  (  She  kneels  before  the  shrine.)  Ma 
donna  mia,  Mother  of  God,  guardian  of  your  people  in 
the  town  below,  hear  my  prayer  and  let  there  be  a  sign. 
You  who  are  all  powerful  and  ever  kind,  let  there  be 
one  little  sign  so  Salvatore  may  believe. 
SALVATORE  (turning  towar  dthe  shrine) :  Yes,  let  there 

be  a  sign. 

MARIANNINA:     Madonna,  intercede  for  me. 
SALVATORE:  There  is  no  sign. 

MARIANNINA  (looking  at  the  crucifix  she  holds  before 

her) :     A  miracle  from   you  may  save   a  human  soul. 

Dear  God,  I  do  not  want  to  die.    I'm  young,  and  life  is 

very  dear.    I  do  not  want  to  die. 

MARIANNINA  (looking  up  once  more):     O  Mary,  hear 

my  prayer! 

SALVATORE  (half  regretfully):  The  Virgin  does  not 
hear,  or  else  she  knows  that  you  have  once  more  lied 
to  me. 

MARIANNINA:    Wait  a  little  moment. 
SALVATORE  (approaching  her):  You  have  to  die    .     .     . 
There  is  no  sign. 


THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE  17 

(Slowly  the  altar  is  again  lighted  from  without.  The 
light  grows  very  strong,  and  for  a  moment  the 
shrine  seems  enwrapped  in  a  mysterious  unearthly 
glow.) 

MARIANNINA:     A  miracle!     .     .     .     Dear  God,  a  mir 
acle! 
SALVATORE   (falling  to  his  knees):     A  miracle!     The 

Virgin  heard  your  prayers. 

MARIANNINA  (sobbing):  Thank  God!  .  .  .  Thank 
God!  Now  you  will  believe. 

(The  light  slowly  fades  away.) 
SALVATORE    (rising):     To   think  that  I   have   doubted 

God's  will! 

MARIANNINA  (still  upon  her  knees):    Now  you  believe? 
SALVATORE:    Yes,  I  believe.    How  can  I  do  otherwise? 
MARIANNINA:     God  has  been  very  good  to  me. 
SALVATORE:     The  thing  is  finished.     I'll  go  away  and 
leave  you  here  to  make  your  peace  with  God  and  thank 
the  Blessed  Virgin  for  her  aid. 
MARIANNINA:     Salvatore— 

(She  rises  from  her  knees,  leaving  the  metal  crucifix 

upon  the  ground.) 

SALVATORE:  Don't  speak  to  me.  The  thing  is  done,  I 
say. 

MARIANNINA:     You've  spared  my  life 

SALVATORE:     It  was  not  I.     It  was  the  hand  of  God. 

MARIANNINA :     Salvatore 

SALVATORE:  Keep  away  from  me.  Each  time  I  look 
into  your  eyes  I  feel  my  hate  for  you  return.  Each  time 
I  hear  your  voice  it  drives  the  blood  into  my  brain  and 
all  my  rage  returns.  But  if  you  live  or  die  there's  noth 
ing  left  me  now.  Pancrazio  dead,  my  freedom  will  be 
taken  from  me,  and  that  was  all  I  had  to  call  my  own. 
Now  even  that  is  gone. 

(Te  turns  to  leave,  facing  in  the  direction  from  which 
the  light  has  come.  He  halts  as  if  fastened  to  the 
spot,  and  laughs  a  brutal,  horrid  laugh,  turning  upon 
Mariannina,  who  has  stood  quite  still,  watching  his 
every  move  with  fascinated  eyes,  fear  strong  upon 
her  countenance.) 


18  THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE 

A  miracle,  indeed!    Another  trick  of  yours  to  save  your 
worthless   life.     A   miracle!     O   God!   why   should  the 
Blessed  Virgin  intervene  for  you? 
MARIANNINA:     You  saw  the  sign    .     .    . 

(Salvatore  laughs  again.) 
SALVATORE:     That  was  no  sgin.     Look  here. 

(He  approaches  the  wall,  pointing  beyond  it.) 
Come!     I'll  show  you  how  your  miracle  was  done. 

(She  follows  him  towards  the  wall.) 
See  far  below,  where  Naxos  juts  into  the  sea,  a  fleet 
is  anchored  near  the  shore.     The  ship  before  Giardini 
plays  its  light  upon  our  cliffs. 

MARIANNINA:    A  miracle  can  happen  in  a  natural  way. 
SALVATORE:     God  would  not  raise  His     hand  to  save 
your  life.    You  knew  the  ships  were  anchored  down  be 
low,  you  saw  their  searchlights  here  upon  the  hills,  you 
hoped  this  would  occur.    Look!  even  now  a  light  is  play 
ing  on  the  mountain  side. 
MARIANNINA:    I  did  not  know. 

SALVATORE  (a  tremendous  anger  sweeping  over  him): 
You  lie,  you  know  you  lie.     Even  in  the  face  of  death 
you  lie.    You're  rotten  through  and  through. 
MARIANNINA:     I  did  not  know. 

SALVATORE:  You  did  not  know!  How  well  you  lie!  Of 
course  you  knew.  Or  if  you  did  not  know,  you  hoped  to 
put  me  off  by  playing  at  repentance,  by  calling  on  a 
God  who  does  not  care. 

(She  comes  near  him,  touching  him  with  her  hand.) 

MARIANNINA:    I  swear 

(He  pushes  her  away.) 

SALVATORE:    You've  sworn  enough.    Be  quiet!    Women 
such  as  you  make  the  world  a  living  hell.    You  lie  and 
lie  and  lie,  and  thus  you  break  the  hearts  of  men. 
(Once  again  she  touches  him,  once  again  he  pushes 

her  aside.) 

MARIANNINA:    I  swear— 

SALVATORE:     Be  quiet,  I  say!     You  women  play  with 
passion  as  if  it  were  a  toy.    But  now  the  game  is  at  an 
end.     You're  going  to  die. 
MARIANNINA:    O  God!     .     .     .     O  God! 
SALVATORE    (approaching  her):     You're  going  to  join 
your  lover  over  there. 


•  THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE  19 

(He  points  to  where  Pancrazio  lies.) 
MARIANNINA:       No!     ...     No!     ...     I     do     not 

want  to  die. 

SALVATORE:     Your  body  is  too  beautiful  to  ruin  with  a 
knife.    I'll  spare  you  that. 

(He  grasps  her  about  the  body.  She  struggles  fright 
fully  to  get  away,  but  he  is  very  strong,  and  slowly 
drags  her  toward  the  wall  beyond  which  the  cliff 
drops  straight  to  the  rocky  outskirts  of  Taormina, 
hundreds  of  feet  below.  She  cries  "Madonna  mia" 
and  then  "Madonna,  Madonna,"  once  or  twice,  after 
which  she  is  silent  save  for  bitter  sobbing.  Salva- 
tore  drags  her  to  the  wall.  Her  body  relaxes,  as  if 
it  had  become  unconscious.  Salvatore  picks  up  the 
candle-lantern,  which  he  has  placed  near  the  wall, 
and  holds  it  to  her  face.) 
My  God,  how  beautiful  you  are! 

(He  puts  the  lantern  down.) 
It  maddens  me  to  hold  you  in  my  arms. 

(He  kisses  her  on  the  lips,  smoothes  back  her  hair, 

then  kisses  her  again.) 

My  love,  my  love!     Mariannina!     Mariannina!     0  God, 
I  love  you  so!     Speak  to  me. 
MARIANNINA   (slowing  raising  her  head  a  little  way) : 

Pancrazio!     Pancrazio  mio! 

SALVATORE  (savagely):  Pancrazio!  O  Christ,  this  is 
more  than  I  can  bear!  Thank  God  to  cast  you  from  my 
life  at  last!  (He  drops  her  over  the  ledge;  leans  to 
watch  her  fall.)  Ah!  (He  shivers,  as  if  with  cold.) 
The  rocks  are  cold  and  hard,  my  love,  and  different  from 
Pancrazio's  arms.  (He  turns  back,  looking  at  Pan 
crazio,  who  lies  quite  still  upon  his  side.) 
She  must  have  loved  him  mightily.  And  now  she's  man 
gled  on  the  rocks  below. 

(He  half  turns  toward  the  shrine  upon  which  the  can 
dles  burn  peacefully.     Idly  he  stoops  and  picks  up 
the  metal  crucifix  from  the  ground  where  Marian 
nina  has  left  it.     Holding  it  in  his  hand,  he  looks 
at  it  with  eyes  that  do  not  seem  to  see.) 
There's  nothing  left  me  for  my  own,  even  my  gods  are 
gone.     There's  no  belief  can  help  me  bear  my  pain.     I 


20  THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE 

never  knew  man  could  be  so  alone.  Mine  is  an 
ache  the  Virgin  well  could  ease,  but  there  she  stands 
and  smiles  and  smiles  .  .  .  and  here  her  Son  is 
fastened  to  his  cross. 

(He  stares  at  the  crucifix,  then  smiles.) 
Man  or  God,  nailed  to  your  cross,  I  pity  you.     You,  too, 
were    caught    within   the    wheel    of    Fate    and    dashed 
against  the  wall  of  circumstance.     To  think  that  I  be 
lieved  in  your  divinity. 

(He  faces  the  statue  of  the  Virgin,  which  stands  be 
hind  its  screen  of  glass.) 

You're  nothing  but  a  lump  of  greyish  clay  dug  from  the 
valley  down  below,  cast  in  the  semblance  of  a  futile  fe 
male  god  ...  I  still  can  see  a  smile  upon  your 
painted  face,  and,  heaven  knows,  there's  little  wonder 
that  you  smile  at  all  the  hopeless  human  worms  that 
writhe  and  wriggle  at  your  feet. 

(He  laughs  harshly,  sneeringly.) 

I  hate  you,  and  I  hate  the  things  you  represent,  you  err 
ing  mother  of  a  wandering  Son  whose  dreams  could 
never  quite  come  true  as  long  as  men  were  men.  'Twas 
you  that  called  the  child  you  hold  within  your  arms 
divine,  and  by  that  lie  you  fooled  the  world. 

(He  laughs  again  without  the  slightest  mirth.) 
The  gods  had  died.  Why  did  your  Son  not  let  them  be? 
Why  need  he  raise  them  up  again  and  dub  them  with 
his  name?  .  .  .  There's  nothing  new  about  them. 
Here  atop  our  sunlit  hills  are  temples  raised  to  gods 
older  far  than  you  and  yours,  and  they  are  dead,  deader 
than  Mariannina  scattered  on  the  rocks  below,  deader 
than  dead  .  .  .  And  all  these  gods  are  turned  to 
dust,  as  you  will  be  some  day. 

(He  draws  closer  to  the  statue.) 

And  you're  no  different  from  those  older,  happier  gods, 
you  tawdry  thing,  your  jewels  even  falser  than  your 
creed. 

(He  fairly  shrieks  with  anger.) 

No  longer  have  you  any  power,  for  if  you  had  you'd  kill 
me  where  I  stand,  and  yet  you  let  me  live  and  tell  you 
what  I  think  of  you  and  that  Son  of  yours. 

(Salvatore  points  at  the  Virgin,  and  bursts  into  a  fit 
of  contemptuous,  hysterical  laughter.     Taking  the 


THE  DOUBLE  MIRACLE  21 

crucifix  by  the  top,  he  flings  it  at  the  statue.  The 
glass  before  it  breaks  with  a  crash,  but  Madonna 
remains  unharmed.  At  the  moment  Salvatore  fin 
ishes  speaking,  Pancrazio  quietly  rises  upon  his 
elbow  and  reaches  for  the  rifle  that  is  beside  him, 
unnoted  by  Salvatore.  He  takes  quick  aim  at  the 
jeering  figure  before  the  shrine,  and,  a  moment 
after  Salvatore  has  thrown  the  crucifix,  Pancrazio 
fires.  There  is  a  loud  report,  a  flash  of  light,  a 
cry  of  "O  God"  and,  clutching  at  his  side,  Salvatore 
tumbles  in  a  heap.) 
A  miracle!  ...  A  miracle! 

(He  rises  upon  one  elbow,  crosses  himself.) 
Blessed  mother    ...     I  believe!     ...     I  believe! 
(He  sinks  upon  the  ground,  his  head  in  his  arms,  sob 
bing.) 
I  believe,  dear  God,  yes,  I  believe. 

(After  a  moment  he  raises  his  head  again,  looks  up 
at  the  statue  with  a  smile  upon  his  face,  then  falls 
upon  the  ground — dead.  Pancrazio  rises  slowly, 
with  great  effort,  and  half  drags  himself  to  the  wall 
over  which  Mariannina  has  been  thrown  and  gazes 
sadly  into  the  valley  below.  He  speaks  with  deep 
emotion.) 

PANCRAZIO:     Mariannina.  my  Mariannina,  I  loved  you 
so;  O  God,  I  loved  you  so! 

(He  moves  heavily  to  where  Salvatore  lies.     He  looks 
down  at  him,  pushes  him  lightly  with  the  toe  of 
his  boot.) 
Compared  with  love,  death  is  a  little  thing. 

(He  turns  wearily,  head  in  hand,  as  if  about  to  faint, 
and  leans  heavily  upon  one  end  of  the  shrine.  His 
head  drops  to  his  folded  arms.  Then  slowly  he  be 
gins  to  fall,  and  in  stretching  out  his  hands  to  save 
himself  he  sweeps  both  candles  from  the  shrine 
With  him,  they  fall  to  the  ground.) 
(She  stage  is  in  darkness.  A  rocket  momentarily 
lights  the  scene,  after  which  the  darkness  closes  in 
once  more.  The  curtain  descends  swiftly.) 


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